Live To Tell
by t0mb0y
Summary: Kirsty begins having dreams about Tiffany's suffering, and she's willing to go through hell to save her. PinheadxKirsty
1. Chapter 1

_Our Father, which art in Heaven,_

_Hallowed be thy Name._

_Thy Kingdom come._

_Thy will be done,_

_in earth as it is in Heaven._

_Give us this day our daily bread._

_And forgive the trespasses,_

_As we forgive them that trespass against us._

_And lead us not into temptation;_

_But deliver us from evil._

_For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,_

_Forever and ever._

_Amen._

CHAPTER ONE 

Sixteen days.

It had been sixteen days since I had gotten a decent night's sleep. Fourteen since I had left England. And two years since I had spoken to Tiffany.

_Tiffany_.

She was the reason I was here in the first place.

About seventeen days ago, I began having dreams that involved the quiet blonde. In fact, they were centered around her; she starred in them, much to my dismay. Not that I have anything against Tiffany, no. We had been good friends back in the day; living in Channard's asylum, battling hell, killing my stepmother and such. It's just what would _happen_ in the dreams that upset me.

Every night when I would go to bed, I would immediately fall into a deep sleep. It was almost like I skipped R.E.M. I would just start dreaming as soon as my eyes closed. And then I would dream of Tiffany…and her _pain_. Mostly I would dream of her pain.

And I could feel it.

Not physically, of course, but I could see it in her face; in the way her body would react to every little thing. Her eyes would roll back in her head, and her face would contort into another person's face. A person I didn't know. A person who had lived too long and seen too much of the world.

I could hear her, too.

Shy and quiet little Tiffany, always contemplative, always silent, shrieking and wailing into the night and into my dreams. Her screams stayed with me through the day. Her face disappeared when I opened my eyes, but her voice, her voice that haunted me because it was so rare to hear, and certainly never at that volume, sat at the back of my mind and reminded me of her pain.

It was almost as bad as the smell.

That putrid, coppery smell that hung in my nostrils after I'd wake…her blood seemed to stain my sheets, and waves of nausea would make me run to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet until both the smell and feeling subsided.

It was hell. Literally.

I would dream of Tiffany in hell, and I knew it was hell, because I could sense _him_.

I never saw _him_, and I never heard _him_, but from the fear in Tiffany's eyes, I could tell it was him that was doing this to her. I had seen that fear many times before, and had even felt it myself. Once a person knows that fear, they never forget it. Luckily, I had never been seriously injured on my several hellish journeys.

But I had seen others hurt, and I had seen the damage it could do.

My father had been killed because of Uncle Frank.

_Uncle Frank._

Julia, Channard, my uncle Frank; they had all been obsessed. Obsessed with pain, obsessed with the box.

_The box._

I could understand why they would be obsessed with the box. For those short periods of time that I held the puzzling cube between my fingertips, I felt the power it emitted, and understood why someone could be so driven to possess it.

I think that's how he got there.

I speak of _him_, but it's not him that I mean. I mean him _before_ he was him. I think he was a general or a captain or something. He's obviously old, but lived recently enough as a human to have his photograph taken. I'd say he was in World War I rather than World War II, the uniform looks a little dated for the 1940s, but I could be wrong.

Maybe he was a Nazi...that would explain a few things.

I should have looked further into the notes that Channard took. _Channard_. That disgusting bastard.

He killed Tiffany's mother; or at least that's what she told me. And what reason would Tiffany have to lie? The doctor was just a sick fuck.

Who would willingly become one of _those_? Those demons. Those monsters. What had _he_ called them? Angels?

I wonder if they prefer "of pain" or "death".

I don't even think Uncle Frank would have _willingly_ become one of those…things. The last time I saw him, he didn't seem to be too thrilled with his situation. And he hadn't looked like one of them.

_Yet_.

I guess that could have changed. Anyway, he'll never get the chance. Not now.

But that was in the past. Right now the task at hand was finding Tiffany. Poor, innocent Tiffany, whose location was unknown. The administration of the college she attended said she hadn't been to class in a month…and they didn't know where she was.

_Stupid fucks._

You would think that if a student hadn't been attending class, and they didn't drop the class, not mention the fact no one had seen them for a month, that someone would get the clue something was up. Something bad.

The box had been surprisingly easy to find. Articles describing horrible cases of people getting their skin ripped off, hooks appearing from unknown places, and a sudden increase in disappearances had aided me in my quest. The articles led me to a little town on the outskirts of Boston. How the box got there, I don't know. But I now I had it.

That had actually been more difficult than tracking down the box. Some little shit had it tried to sell it to me for less than that monstrosity was worth—he couldn't know how truly valuable it was—but it was still a considerable amount of money. Several carefully chosen threats had quickly lowered the price, and before I knew it, I had it in my possession once more.

And now, here I was, sitting in the cheap motel room I was renting, sitting at the head of the bed, the box laying before me. I had dressed for the occasion.

Nothing fancy, just jeans and sneakers. I wanted to have as much of an advantage as I possibly could. I didn't have any weapons, though. What good would they do? How does one battle the demons of hell with a knife or a gun? They don't. The only weapon I had was my mind, and the little cube lying before me. And the cube could both aide me or destroy me. That's where my mind came in.

I picked up the puzzle and just stared at it for a moment. It had destroyed so many lives. I had solved it before, but what made me think that I was so amazing I could do it again? Who's to say I wouldn't just kill myself and Tiffany would be left to rot, or worse, to suffer, in hell for all eternity. I had to be strategic.

_But I just want Tiffany._

My hands began sliding over the patterned, metal surface, feeling each small crevice with the pads of my fingers. They seemed to have a mind of their own, rotating, pushing, sliding back and forth against the gold.

_Tiffany. Tiffany. Tiffany._

It began to open.

_That's good. Open. Open for me. Take me in._

It opened further, and I smiled as the cube seemed to give up.

But the smile fell from my lips, and from them erupted a harsh howl of pain as I felt a hook embed itself in my side.

_He's here. He's here. He's here._


	2. Chapter 2

Of those whose anxious spirits burn

With strong desires for thy return!

This robe of flesh I'll drop, and rise

To seize the everlasting prize…

-_Sweet Hour of Prayer_

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Ow. Ow. OW!_

"Son of a bitch!"

I had two hooks stuck in my left side. One was up near my ribs, and the other was a little lower. One hook had caught the skin right below the corner of my right eye on my cheek. There was one in my back, and I think there was one on the side of my neck. I couldn't really tell. It all hurt too much.

_But how?_

I thought that all of my concentration had been focused on the box. I had been so bent on saving Tiffany, I had been careless.

I could feel the beaded sweat on my forehead, sliding down my face and dripping onto my chest. My breathing was surprisingly shallow for the situation I was in. I would have thought I'd have hyperventilated by now. My pulse was racing, though; a sure sign that I was still alive.

_What am I doing?!_

Why was I thinking about stupid stuff like that! In a few minutes I would probably be wishing that the hooks had killed me!

_Where is he?_

I had felt him when the hooks arrived, but I couldn't see him anywhere in the room. _Room?_ No, this wasn't the room that I had rented when I arrived in Boston. This was different. It looked like…

_A dungeon! Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, SHIT!_

I was in hell! But how? The last time I had gone to hell, I had to enter out of my own free will!

"As you did this time."

_Oh, God…_

He was behind me! I couldn't see him!

My breathing completely halted as I heard him taking steps towards me. He sounded so close! But I couldn't tell where he was because I couldn't turn my head around. I tried to tilt my face in the direction of his voice, hoping that maybe I could catch a glimpse of him, but the razor-sharp hook tore at the tender skin of my neck.

"Oh, Kirsty…" His voice was almost bad as the hooks. It kept me in place and tore through me with its mocking familiarity. "When will you learn, child?"

I clenched my eyes shut, and felt hot tears squeeze themselves from between the lids. _It hurts!_ But I couldn't give up now! Tiffany needed me!

"How did you come back?"

"Hmm?" 

I hate him! I absolutely hate him! How could he be so nonchalant about this! He was human once! He told me he remembered! He saved my life! What had happened?

"HOW DID YOU COME BACK?"

_Stupid!_ I shouldn't yell at him. The last thing I needed to do was make him angry.

"You can thank my dear friend, Joey, for that."

What? Joey? Who's Joey? Is that even relevant? Never mind. It doesn't matter.

"Where is Tiffany?"

_"Hmm?"_

That's it.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Nothing.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO WITH HER?"

Still nothing.

"YOU'RE A GOD DAMNED MONSTER!"

For a moment there was a long silence.

"God? Yes. Damned? Quite. Monster? Perhaps."

_Damnation!_ This was getting nowhere!

"She is here."

Huh?

"Where?"

_Where? Where? Where? Where?_

"You ask for too many questions."

Never had I felt anything so…_terrible._ It burned. It felt like me skin was being peeled off, which, actually, wouldn't be far from the truth. The hooks had suddenly tightened, and ripped through me. Several, like the one near my eye and the one on my stomach, had simply tore through the skin, leaving small little gashes. The others, however, pulled with them large amounts of flesh, and left my body bloody and raw.

I fell onto my back and I silently sobbed as my blood pooled around me.

"You wish to see her?"

I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me from overhead. A small curve of the lips, almost a smirk, graced his mouth, but his eyes were cold and hollow. I knew that if I opened my mouth, a scream would be the only thing I could say, so I bit my lips and tried my best to nod my head. It ended up just being a slight head jiggle.

_Oh, my head hurts!_

"I shall bring her to you."

I said nothing.

His footsteps echoed throughout the empty dungeon as he left me in the darkness. _Darkness?_ I suppose the light must follow his presence. Either that, or he felt I didn't deserve any. Probably the latter.

What the hell was I going to do? I was going to die here! I knew that from the start, though, didn't I? Maybe that's why I came here. I wanted to die. I wanted to get it over with. There was no reason for me to be around any longer.

My father was gone. I missed him every day, even though the last time I had seen "him", he was about to kill me.

Tiffany, of course. Gentle Tiffany. That's a riot, huh? I love her so much. I consider her one of my best friends, and I haven't spoken to her in two years. Yeah, my social life is shit. I hadn't even been with a guy since…

_Steve_. Oh, Steve. He didn't stand a chance against my fucked-up life. And he had tried to. He tried to understand my problems. But I can't blame him for leaving. I think I probably would have looked the other way, too. Who would honestly want to be someone who was such a…a…

_Nut._

"Tell me you're not giving up yet."

Despite my pain, I was alert instantly, sitting up in the darkness. The voice had come from in front of me this time. I squinted.

With distinct sound of a match being lit, I suddenly could see a face in the darkness.

"You…"

"Yes, me." The man grinned. It was _him!_ But him _before _he was him.

"You're…you're…"

"Captain Elliot Spencer," he bowed, "at your service."

I looked around. The room was suddenly lit up as if someone had flipped a switch. But it wasn't the dungeon…it was…

"Oh! Where are we _now_?"

"What?" Captain Spencer looked at me, puzzled. "Oh! Right! This. Yes. Welcome to _my_ hell."

This place didn't look so bad. It just looked like the inside of a military tent or a bunker or something.

"This is your hell?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't look so bad _now, _but you just give it time."

"Why am I here?"

Captain Spencer scratched his chin for a moment, and then replied, "Well…because you opened the box."

Okay…

"Yes, but why am I _here_. Specifically."

"Because I brought you here."

I guess that's a little better.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Suddenly, his face clouded over and his eyes became dark. "Please take a seat."

I took a seat on a cot and waited for him to do the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Tell me the story simply,

As to a little child,

For I am weak and weary,

And helpless and defiled.

-_Tell Me the Old, Old Story_

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Here, allow me."

I shrank back as Captain Spencer reached out a hand to touch my bleeding face. For a moment a caught a glimpse of annoyance behind his eyes, but I didn't care. Regardless of whether it had actually been _him _who had hurt me, a version of _him_ was responsible for the state I was in.

"Please," he tried again, this time reaching for my side, "let me help you."

I let out a deep breath that I had been holding, and winced as a sharp pain shot through me. Perhaps it would be better if I allowed the captain to treat my wounds.

I looked at him wearily for a long moment before finally giving in.

"…okay."

He didn't exactly smile at me, but his face softened and an odd glint came to his eyes. I say odd because it was almost kind…not something that you'd expect from his other half. He turned away from me for a moment and started digging through a chest on the other side of the room. When he returned, he was holding a small box in his hands.

"What's that?" I asked, noting how he seemed more concentrated on getting me better as opposed to making conversation.

"It's first-aid supplies," he replied, opening the box and never looking up.

"Oh."

I felt kind of stupid. Here he was, helping me, and I didn't even know why. Not only that, but I had given him a hard time. I started wondering if it was my reluctance to trust him that was making him distant, or if he was just that way naturally.

"Ow!"

Again I felt stupid as he finally did look up at me, a somewhat surprised expression gracing his features. He had applied pressure to the place on my left side, where a hook had been embedded in my stomach. The semi-bewildered look on his face made me feel as though I was weak and had overreacted…which only led to me being more self-conscience and defensive.

"What?" I snapped at him.

His eyes dropped down. "Nothing. It's just been a long time since I've heard someone actually exclaim the word 'ow'…generally they are just screaming."

We both fell into an awkward silence as his hands moved up to my ribs and began feeling.

_Damn, damn, damn._

He was going to have to remove the shirt.

"I'm going to need you to—"

"Yeah," I cut him off, "just a sec."

I pulled the tee shirt up over my head, strangely feeling embarrassed. I shouldn't have. It's not that I'm horribly conceited and I think that I have the perfect body, but given the situation at hand, humiliation at having the captain see me in my plain, lace bra should have been the last thing on my mind. Luckily for me, he paid no mind, just like a true gentlemen, and began dressing my wounds.

I leaned back on the cot, and began to relax as he applied various ointments and wrappings. His hands were warm and rough, which somewhat surprised me. I knew he was in the military, but his clean-cut features and well-behaved manners made him seem like a pillar of aristocracy, so I would have guessed his hands to be smooth. As for the idea of them being cold, it could have been suggested by the attitude in which he dealt with me, or perhaps it was simply put in my mind by the cool, frosted color of his eyes.

"I'm sorry but could you please lean your head a little to the left?"

_Oh, shit!_

I nearly choked when I realized that I had been subconsciously leaning myself into the hand which rested on my neck. I made sure not to make any eye contact with him and instead stared over his shoulder. It was actually pretty easy, because he seemed adamant about not acknowledging my presence.

I was a project, a puzzle. I was his new problem to solve. As soon as he had me fixed, he could leave me alone.

His hand slid down my neck and across my shoulder, making gooseflesh rise at his fingertips. I drew in a quick breath as he drug one finger up the side of my face and gently began to examine the last injury, the gash below my eye.

Taking two fingers, and nudging me to look up, he thoroughly cleaned my cut. In no time, he had a patch of gauze taped to my cheek. When his work was done, he instantly withdrew his hands from me and scooted back several feet.

"Thank you," I said, honestly meaning it.

Captain Spencer said nothing, only nodded his head and went to put the first-aid box back in his trunk.

"Um…"

The captain turned back to look at me, waiting for me to continue.

"I had asked earlier why you brought me here."

"Yes?"

_That's not the answer I wanted._

"Well, why did you bring me here?"

He closed the trunk and walked towards me, scratching his chin as if he had to ask himself that same question.

"Well, for one, you're not safe out there."

_What?_

"Out where?"

"Out there," he pointed to the side of him, "and there," this time behind him, "and everywhere else, for that matter. You are not safe anywhere. No one is. Hell is a dangerous place, and it can be an even more dangerous place when you're the main prize."

"Main prize? I'm just here to rescue Tiffany."

At this, his head snapped sharply in my direction, and I sat up straighter. I was reminded of when I was a child and I knew my father was about to punish me. It wasn't a very good feeling.

"Tiffany?"

"Yes," I answered, "Tiffany. I've been having dreams about her. She's here…suffering."

For a moment he said nothing, but eventually replied, "I see."

Not for the first time in my life, my curiosity got the better of me. "Why are you here?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, and responded, "The same reason you are, Kirsty. My curiosity got the better of me."

Slightly startled by his answer, I nodded, pretending to understand better than I truthfully did. "Did you find the box?"

"You know as well as I do that the box finds you."

This time I nodded, fully understanding the meaning of his words. "And it turned you into h—that thing?"

He didn't reply, and he didn't have to. I understood things a little better now, but I still wanted answers.

"I need to find Tiffany. Can you help me?"

Captain Spencer straightened up a bit and looked directly at me with those biting blues eyes.

"No."


	4. Chapter 4

"You have paid full fair, so I'll carry you through,

For it's only right you should have your due.

Why, the laborer always expects his hire,

So I'll land you safe in the lake of fire,

"Where your flesh will waste in the flames that roar,

And my imps torment you forevermore."

-_The Hellbound Train_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

We stood silently for a brief moment, as if he was giving time to take in what he had just said. His head was turned away from me and I had no idea how to react. He had completely shattered any hope I previously had of finding Tiffany. I couldn't understand why.

"No?" I asked dumbly, a wave of disbelief washing over me. "...what do you mean...no...?"

His head snapped in my direction and glared at me. His eyes had become so dark. It was almost as if his pupil had expanded to encompass his entire iris. This was it. This was the evil that had created the monster.

The room had grown so cold. I felt as if I were choking.

And in a blink, his eyes had returned to normal, and his face softened. He turned his head down and ran a hand through his hair, obviously searching for the words to say. I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to anger him again.

"Kirsty," he said, finally, "Tiffany is not here."

I could literally feel the blood drain from my face.

_She wasn't here? Then where was she?_

"But I saw--"

"She was never here," he continued, cutting me off. "I'm afraid you've fallen victim to the Lament Configuration."

She was never… 

I felt like crying. I felt like screaming. I felt like pulling out my hair and banging my fists on the floor and taking Elliot Spencer, or whatever the fuck his name was, and beating him over and over again until it made sense.

"You mean...you mean she was never...she wasn't here?" I could hear my own voice crack. "Ever?"

He made no reply.

"Then where is she?" It didn't make sense. "You're lying! No one has seen her for weeks."

He must be lying! She had to be here! She certainly wasn't in the "real" world, that was for damn sure.

Faster than I could have ever imagined, he strode towards me and shoved me down onto to the bed, pinning me under his weight and grabbing me by the shoulders. His eyes went straight through me.

"Did you learn nothing from your first visit?" His voice was a venomous whisper. I felt his fingers biting into the flesh at my collarbone. "We all have our own hell."

_I've come for my father! _

_But he is in his own Hell, child, and quite unreachable. _

_I don't believe you! _

_But it's true. He is in his own Hell, just as you are in yours._

I felt like dying. I was going to die. And so was Tiffany. I had failed Tiffany. I had failed her.

"But..." I looked up at him and chose my words carefully. His grip had loosened considerably, but he was still rigid and pressing me down onto the mattress. "...but then how did I get here?"

"You may enter another's hell, but only if they allow it," Captain Spencer said calmly. "The first time you visited hell, your uncle, Frank, he invited you into his hell, but your father did not. That is why you were unable to reach him."

I nodded, trying to grasp what he had just said. His face had become expressionless and his eyes were staring at me, but they weren't focused on me. He seemed to be in a trance.

"Why did it bring me here, then?"

My question snapped him out of his reverie. "I don't know, quite frankly. Although, he might be trying to..." He trailed off and his eyes glossed over again.

"Being trying to what?"

"Not long ago, I brought another here. I had hoped that she might help me capture the beast."

I racked my mind. "Joey?"

For the first time, he smiled faintly. His hands had slipped away from my neck, and I could feel his fingers playing with my hair. "Yes, Joey." The smile fell from his lips. "I'm sad to say, she didn't quite succeed."

I shuddered involuntarily. She didn't quite succeed. I could only assume that meant I probably wouldn't _quite_ succeed, either.

"So what am I?" I finally asked.

He looked down at me thoughtfully. "I suppose you would be the other half."

Other half of what? 

As if he had read my thoughts, he explained further. "Like it is to me, you would have been to Joey."

_It to him? It? As in, _IT—_it? _

"So I'm a pawn?" God, my head hurt so much. "I'm here to…to…?"

Captain Spencer sighed and finally pulled back from me. It wasn't until then that I noticed the tingling sensation in my legs. He had been lying on top of me so long that my feet had fallen asleep. He shifted to where he could sit on the bed and look down at me. I stayed were I was.

"It would seem that he brought you here to help dispose of me," he said, coolly.

He was being so calm about the whole situation. It wasn't that he didn't seem concerned, but had I been in his place, I doubt that I would have wanted to be in the room with my eliminator. Hell, I didn't want to be in the same room with him earlier, and he had been trying to _help_ me!

I eventually found my voice. "So what do you suggest I do?"

"Well, I—"

His voice cut off as the atmosphere suddenly changed. We both watched as the light gradually dissipated. Before I knew it, the light was completely gone and I was left alone in the darkness. The warmth from the captain's body had disappeared and was instead replaced by an arctic chill.

It was then that I heard the bells.


End file.
